


But It's Okay

by shishcabob22



Series: I Thought I Wouldn't Miss You (Until You Were Gone) [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 9x17, Dean drinking, Gen, Worried Sam Winchester, mother's little helper, the mark of cain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 00:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15569949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shishcabob22/pseuds/shishcabob22
Summary: There's something wrong with Dean, and Sam is starting to get worried. Dean struggles with the Mark. 9x17.





	1. Sam

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Sorry it took me so long to update, I was at camp. Anyway I've really been looking forward to writing this one, so enjoy!
> 
> Finally finished! Chapter two is a lot longer than I thought it would be. Also, sorry I forgot to mention this before, but italics are either thoughts or memories, depending on the context.

Sam walked into the library just as Dean dropped a large, red book on the table and began leafing through it. Sam stopped next to his brother and hitched the duffel higher up on his shoulder. "Hey."

"Hey," Dean responded, barely glancing up.

Sam considered his brother carefully. "You catch any shut-eye last night?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Nope," Dean said nonchalantly.

"Guess I'm driving then."

Dean looked up at that. "Driving where?"

Sam smiled slightly to himself. "Caught wind of a case online. A first grade teacher came home and killed her husband."

Dean returned his gaze to the book. “Well, maybe she snapped. Ankle biters can do that to you.”

Sam was a little surprised. Normally Dean would pounce on a case for less. Way less. “Dude, she pounded him into ground chuck.”

“So, what are you thinking?” asked Dean, sounding as if he couldn’t be less interested.

”Best guess—possession.”

Dean stood up and turned his back on Sam, walking over to a folder and starting to look through it. “Why don’t you go?”

Sam didn’t move for a second, regarding Dean with disbelief. He couldn’t remember the last time his brother turned down a case, if it had ever happened. But it had been four days since Dean had killed Magnus and Crowley had disappeared with the Blade, and Dean had been acting strange ever since. He was on edge, obsessive. All he had done since they got back was dig into the lore to try to find Abaddon and frankly, it wasn’t like him. 

”Dean, look. I want to find Abaddon too, but we’ve been combing through this stuff for days.”

”Well, maybe we missed something,” Dean snapped.

”And maybe there are better ways to spend our time than just spin our—“

Dean spun around, shouting, “Maybe we don’t have time!”

Sam didn’t flinch. “What’s up with you?”

Dean pulled a paper out of folder and started to read it. Or at least pretended to. “Nothing,” he said.

Sam walked over to Dean. “Yeah? See, because ever since you killed Magnus, you’ve been acting...sort of...obsessed.”

What an understatement.

Dean turned to face Sam.  “Well, maybe because I want an end to all this. Maybe because if we find Abaddon, then Crowley ponies up the First Blade, and we kill her and him both. So, what you call being obsessed, I call doing my job,” Dean said, voice low and impatient.

Alright, so Dean was pissed. “Okay, um... I get it, Dean. I’m just checking in.” Which is something he wouldn’t have even considered doing a month ago. How things had changed.

Dean avoided his gaze. “I’m fine.”

Sam, of course, didn’t believe him. But he nodded anyway. “Alright. Hit me up if you find anything.”

Sam left the library and headed to the garage. He had a strange feeling that even though he was the one heading out to hunt, Dean was the one in danger.

* * *

 

Sam called Dean after asking the Sheriff some questions about the murder. He picked up on the third ring.

”How’s Mrs. Manson doing?” Dean asked.

”Dead. She hung herself in her cell.”

”Lovely. The demon smoke out?”

”If it was a demon. I mean, there was no sulfur, no EMF anywhere. And everyone who saw her just before she gutted her husband said she was totally fine.”

”What are you still doing there? Sounds like a case of the crazies to me.”

”Well, if nothing kicks up by morning, I’m out of here. How’s the research going?”

”It’s...going.” Sam frowned. There was something off in Dean’s voice, like he was trying too hard to be interested, or maybe not trying hard enough. He had a sneaking suspicion that his brother had been doing more drinking than research. 

“Alright. Well, uh...good luck.” Dean hung up, and Sam was left with a dial tone and a fair amount of concern.

* * *

 

Sam was sitting in the police station reading through case files when he called Dean again. This time it took Dean five rings to pick up, which was beyond strange for his brother.

”Hey.”

”Well, that took forever.”  _Come on, Dean. What’s going on?_  

“Well, I’m working. You got anything?”

Sam outlined the case, and put together that the murderers must have been soulless. But throughout the conversation Dean sounded...flat. Detached. Like he was covering something up. Dean said he was getting close with his research, but Sam didn’t need to see his face to tell that his brother was lying. Again he got the strange feeling that Dean was in more danger than he was. 

Sam leaned back in his chair, furrowing his brow. 

Something was wrong.

 


	2. Dean

Sam tried to convince him to go on a hunt, but Dean couldn't find it in himself to get excited. If he was telling the truth (which he rarely did these days), looking for Abaddon was only part of it. It was his best excuse, anyway.

As soon as Sam left the room, Dean let his mask drop. His anger and impatience drained away and all that remained was a bone-deep weariness. He reached under the desk to pull a large bottle of whiskey out of a bag. Dean closed his eyes and took a long drink, letting the numbness wash over him.

No, it wasn't just Abaddon. It was the burning on his arm, the boiling in his veins, the way every time he closed his eyes all he could see was the Blade and all he could feel was raw, animalistic  _power_. 

Yeah, Dean wanted to kill Abaddon. But he needed the First Blade to do that. He knew it wasn't right, but some part of him craved the feeling of the Blade in his hand again.

Dean took another pull from the bottle. The Mark throbbed. 

He doubted he would get much research done. 

* * *

 

It had been a few hours and Dean had actually managed to get some research done, but he hadn't come up with anything. Just as he was opening a new file his phone rang. Dean picked it up to check the caller ID. He hesitated for a moment, then answered and put the phone on speaker.

"How's Mrs. Manson doing?" Dean asked his brother.

He half-assed his way through most of the conversation. He just didn't see how this case really mattered, what with everything that was going on. A small voice in the back of his head said that every case mattered, he should  _know_ that, but he smothered the thought before it could take root.

Dean tuned in again when Sam asked him a question. "--research going?"

Dean looked around at the mess of papers around him, none of them providing any actual information. "...it's going." There was an awkward pause, as if Sam expected him to elaborate. "Alright. Well, uh...good luck."

He hung up on Sam and stared at the empty bottle of whiskey without really seeing it. Images flashed before Dean's eyes as he heard Cain's voice echoing in his ears. 

_"I can give you the Mark, Dean, if it's what you truly want."_

_"Can I use it to kill that bitch?"_

_"Yes. But you have to know, with the Mark comes a great burden."_

_Dean saw red tendrils of the Mark crawling from Cain's arm across his own hand, past his wrist and finally branding itself into his forearm, right above his elbow. Dean watched as he sliced Magnus' head neatly from his body, feeling the thrill of it. His arm shook with the power of the Blade as he stood before Sam, ready and willing to kill--_

Suddenly Dean was jerked back to reality and he released his death grip on the table, lifting his hand as it still shook with the after effects of the flashback. On impulse, he picked up his phone and dialed, only to quickly hang up.

Dean eyed the empty whiskey bottle again.

He stood up, grabbing his coat. He needed a drink.

* * *

 

Sam called Dean again when he was at the bar. He hated himself for lying to his brother again, but he wasn't completely stupid. He could tell that Sam was starting to have doubts. When his brother asked him for help on the case, Dean scrambled for and excuse. He couldn't be with Sam right now, and he _really_  needed that drink.

As soon as Dean hung up, an annoyingly familiar British voice came from the booth behind him. "You're lying to Sam like he's your wife, which kind of makes me your mistress."

Dean ignored Crowley as he went over to the pool table. "What do you want?" he demanded as he started raking up a queue.

"You tell me, Romeo. You rang. Let me guess--you butt-dialed me?" 

"Whatever the hell that is. Either way, we done here?"

"Actually, long as I'm here, last time we chitchatted, we agreed that you were gonna line up Carrot Top."

"Yep, well...I'm on it," Dean said as he finished arranging the pool balls.

"Unless Abaddon likes ten cent wings, stale beer, and the clap, I doubt she's here," Crowley responded.

"Go to hell."

"Oh, if only. What's going on with you, huh? You call me, you hang up. You want Abaddon, you don't want Abaddon. You want the Blade, you don't want the Blade. If I didn't know you any better, I'd say you're stalling."

Dean neglected to respond as he sighted up his pool stick and broke.

Crowley continued undeterred. "Just between us girls, how did you feel when you sunk the First Blade into Magnus' head?"

Dean looked up from sighting his next shot. "Not half as good as I'm gonna feel when it's yours," he growled.

"Love it when you talk dirty. You know what I think? I think you felt powerful...virile...and afraid."

"Afraid?" Dean scoffed. How the hell would Crowley know what he was talking about?

"Don't scam a scam artist, darling. You're stalling 'cause you're scared."

Dean ignored Crowley as he finished up his pool game, then went over to sit at a bar stool. He signaled the bartender for a drink. Crowley, of course, followed him, whistling for his own drink.

"I love this. I really do. Couple of cold ones, a kind jukebox... Good and evil, bro-ing down," Crowley said.

"Shut your pie hole, Crowley," Dean said, raising his glass to his lips.

"Yeah, you said that already. Look, I merely suggested you might be a bit scared."

"Yeah. No, I heard you the first time. You still don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"I know that Cain gave you his Mark for a reason. And I know that rather than embracing it, rather than looking at it as the gift that it is, you're sulking like you lost your knuffle bunny. Why are you fighting what you really are?"

 _What I really am?_ "I'm a hunter." 

"Who's a chip off the old Mark of Cain."

"No. When I kill, I kill for a reason. I'm nothing like Cain." Dean tried to believe it, but he knew it wasn't true. Not completely. How many innocents had he killed over the years, or had been casualties in his war? How many people had suffered because of his choices?

"Nothing like--who are you talking to? I know you're not talking to me," Crowley said disbelievingly.

"Eat me," Dean snapped.  

"I saw you. I saw the two of you together. Nothing like Cain? What's in that bottle? Delusion?" Crowley shook his head. "I'm really starting to worry about you, Dean."

"Yeah, well, why don't you worry about yourself?"

"I will. 'Cause like it or not, we're in this together. Your problems, my problems...our problems."

Dean stared into his drink as Crowley went off to the restroom. Suddenly the Mark burned with a ferocity he hadn't felt since he last held the Blade. He grasped his arm as Magnus' voice echoed in his head.

_"That's it. Good. You'll get used to the feelings, even welcome them."_

Dean dropped his hand as the burning stopped and the voices faded. As much as he hated to admit it, the truth was, Dean was scared. He was scared of what the Blade did to him, of what it could make him do.

What did it say about him that having a few drinks with the King of Hell was what it took for Dean to stop lying to himself?

* * *

 

Of course Dean stopped that kid hunter--Jake, was it?--from going after Crowley. He still needed the demon as long as he had the Blade. Plus, it was for the kid's protection.

At least, that's what Dean told himself.

Dean met Crowley outside the bar. "What happened? I thought you were cleaning up your act."

Crowley shrugged. "Well, I was going to, but then after very little soul-searching, I decided to embrace my addiction. What about you?" Dean raised his eyebrows. Crowley gave him a knowing look in return. "Takes a junkie to know a junkie. You just want to touch that precious again, don't you?"

"I want to kill Abaddon. That's what I want. So, whatever happens with the Blade, I can't worry about that."

"Sure. Whatever you've got to tell yourself so you can sleep better at night."

"Look, what I want, what I fear, none of that means squat. Because this is the one chance that we have to kill Abaddon. So I'm all in, no matter what the consequences."

"So the plan remains the same?" Crowley asked.

"I'll find her, you bring the Blade," Dean confirmed.

"It's a date," Crowley said with a smirk.

As Dean walked away, he found himself less conflicted than he had been before. He had a plan, and he would act on it. It was that simple. The Blade, the Mark, any consequences there were, they didn't matter. He could do this. If something went wrong, if something happened to him...that was okay.

He had a job to do.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope Sam's transition from anger to worry was smooth enough. We're gonna start to focus a little more on Dean's perspective from now on as we get deeper with the Mark, but there should still be a lot of Sam POV. Tell what you think or if you have any ideas, leave them in the comments!
> 
> Also, I was hoping to finish this series before summer ends but my WiFi has been pretty weird lately. I promise I’m already working on the next one, I’ll try to get it out as soon as I can.


End file.
